Path of Destruction
by foolishpenguin
Summary: Desolation and regret take their toll on a young hero's heart. The time setting is about a year after Sephiroth's defeat. Themes of male homosexuality, obsession, love, destruction suicide, minor hints of bondage. Hope you read, enjoy, and review. btw, I


I do not own any of the characters... if I did there would be videos instead of fan fiction and I would be a very happy fangirl..This story carries a warning: It is containing homosexual relations between men. Do not spam me or anything if you do not like said relationships and read it anyway. You have been warned. As for the rest of you who are still reading the intro, I hope you enjoy it and please review. I love getting feedback about my stories, good or bad, and like to know if it is appreciated. And before I forget, I have totally ignored Advent Children while writing it. I love the film, but would rather not write a fic with it as of yet, considering that some have not been blessed with having it released yet. With no further delays:

Path of Destruction

Where is he? Where is that man that haunts my dreams that is the supplier of all of my desires? I have been searching everywhere for him. Everywhere. It has been months since I saw him, months since I touched him, months since we were one heaping pile of good feelings and tired eyes. But then he was gone. Now all he is, is a ghost of a memory behind my ever waking eyes. I see him everywhere, shadows of him everywhere. Turning corners, through windows, in crowds, but he always disappears once I grab that vision of him. Then there is always that awkward discussion with that once perfect vision trying to convince him that I thought he was someone else. That horrible discussion with tears staining my eyes. The sounds of worry, fear, and absolute desolation within my voice. Those are the moments when I am at rock bottom. Those are the times when I know how far away he really is.

I don't know if he had gone underground once more. If he had, it is not in the same place where I had found him. That place is long gone, and has been long empty. Yes, I have checked. I have checked every month for the past year. My endless search always ends there to start anew.

He is my drug, and I am addicted. Has been since the first time I had really tasted him. Tasted that creamy white skin. Smelt his dark musky smell. Tangled myself within the black wavy depths of his hair, waves that even the ocean could not rival in the dark night. I can never understand how he can hide himself from the world. Denying the world his untapped beauty. The animalistic fury within his eyes. That amazing strength that will never be able to be tamed. But when I found him, I felt as if he was my own little bit of paradise. He was my forbidden fruit. One to be had for a little while, but once it is taken away, I craved it like no other. The forbidden fruit that just disappeared one day. The one that I would fight anyone or anything to get back.

So I wander, and wander, and wander more, just to find that dark silhouette. Hell, I would give my left arm to have just one sign of the man. At least then I would know that I was on the right path.

The night is cool…. Cooler then I would like for walking upon the streets, searching for that lone figure. The wind, caressing my face, just like the nimble white fingers so long ago. It is almost like a dream. Even in the time of war and hardship, he was the rock besides me. The silent, all-knowing rock. He kept me steady, even as I was mentally breaking down, confused of my past.

He never really spoke to me when we were alone. There was really no time for speaking. We were always so quiet. We had to be, our companions would never understand. A look from those red eyed would send shivers down my spine. They would unwind any concentration I had about the future battle, and set them upon the slow disposal of all the crimson and black, and seeing more of the pale flesh that I knew was underneath. Even in the darkest of times, He was on my mind. Our whispers in the darkness, gentle caresses, playful bites. Any bruises we left, we blamed upon the fights. Well, I blamed on fights, he never really talked. So silent, so strong. How I wish to find that strength once again. Be embraced in those arms, feel the metal fingers scraping down my back, clutching onto me, stroking me off as he plunges himself into ecstasy. The sounds of stifled moans, gasps for breath, and panting, the only things that could be heard. And was only heard by the pair. They made sure of that. He had always kept his tent a little further away from the camp. Something that everyone thought was because of his moody exterior, his desire to be away. In reality it was in order to ensure his privacy.

The only piece of happiness I had during those days of battle. Sad to think that those were the only days of happiness that I would know. The purity that was what we had during those long dark nights that were full of danger. During battles where the only thing that I would be able to think of is if last nights pleasure would have been the last. If that battle would be the last that I would see, and therefore never able to touch that white skin that stood beside me, battled beside me, ate beside me, drank beside me, and slept beside me.

He was always gentle. He never did anything that I did not want. If I said no, he would stop what he was doing and do something that he knew would make me gasp in pleasure, squirm in delight, and writhe because I am unable to do anything else. He was able to keep me on the crest of pleasure for what would feel like hours. He would always stifle my scream of ecstasy with his lips, drinking all of it in. When it was over, he would allow me to cuddle within his arms until the break of day, when he would awake me and I would travel back to my tent to avoid suspicion from our friends.

Each night we were together would strengthen my affixation on him. The first few nights I could ignore his magnetic pull. Squash the little butterflies in my stomach when his piercing eyes would lie upon me. I would try to say that, that night would be the last. That I would not go to him the next night. That I could find the strength to stay within my tent. Some nights I would even take on of the girls to keep me company. They were always fighting one another for my affection anyway, so it was not that hard. But I would always send them away when I was through with them. I always craved a different type of love. The love that only the darkest of spirits could give me.

I craved the ability to be just a maiden. I am always burdened with having to be the leader. Always has to be the one to be strong. But with him, I was the one sheltered, I was the one who was looked after, I was the obedient one. I never had to order, to explain myself. He was the strength, and I had craved it. I had always craved it. So night after night, I would go to him. Push the door of his tent to the side and crawl up next to him. He would always accept me into his tent. He would never push me away, he always knew that I needed him. Even when I sent the girls away I would go to him. Soon, I just gave up trying to stay away from him. Sometimes I would just make excuses to be alone with him, even during the day, because I needed his touch so much. I was like a lost puppy and he was the kind master. Much kinder then my last master.

Yes, I have craved another before him. He was much more sadistic. He would take me in ways that I never even could imagine. Hang me upside down for his own pleasure. Bloody my pale skin, watch the designs that the small streams of blood would make upon my skin. Taste it as it would just about roll off of me. Brush up against me as a cat would, bathing in the blood that he set free. Tie me in ways that were unimaginable. Sometimes I would fear that he would leave me like that. I would never be able to untie myself, and if someone else from his battalion came and found him, he was not sure if they would even be able to untie him. Or if they could, would they. Who would go against their general, and if he wanted to see me tied up, no one would untie me. But for some reason I would always go back. I was addicted to the stunning beauty with a sadist's heart. Addicted to the fire beneath his skin, the strong green eyes that would twinkle with a childlike glee as he would watch stains of red travel through my hair. No matter how cruel he would be, I would crave it.

But then he left. Driven mad by the power and the knowledge of his true power. And I was left without his warmth. Without his beauty, without his ability to transform such pain into unbelievable pleasure. I missed the cuts and bruises, the rope burns, the scorch marks. I missed the dark nights where my screams were the only things able to be heard for miles. He left and I was thrown into my own hell where all I could ever hear were my own screams. I was lost, desolate, and unable to feel. And then the other came into my life. Whenever his claw when to slice into my flesh I would stop him. I thought that the pain is what would bind me to him. I thought that is what I craved. I thought that is what was my drug, so I stopped him. I did not want to be addicted. I did not want to feel as if I died once again. But as I killed one, I lost the other.

I remember that night so vividly. The night I had lost both. That was the first night that he had let himself go over the edge. He had always let himself have some pleasure when we were together, I had always thought he had as much as he had given me. Always thought that he had lost himself in me. It was not until that night that I had realized that he had held back all that time. That night was to be our last. I think we both knew that, for we separated ourselves from the rest more then before. The crater was full of noise so we did not worry about any noises that we would make. That was the first time we really explored each other. The first time that I allowed myself to voice my pleasure. Pants, screams, moans, all escaped my lips that night, for the first and last time. He had used his claw that night, and I allowed myself to enjoy all of it. Allowed him to be forceful, allowed him to play. I had seen something in his eyes that night. Something that reminded me so much of my general, that I could not say no.

That time was magnificent. When we were both close to our release was when the change came. I felt him shudder from behind as he plunged into me. The changes came quick and yet so agonizingly slow. I saw his shadow upon the canvas wall of the tent change. He became bigger, more muscular, and sprouted wings. He grew while plunging into me, I felt as if I was going to be split apart from the inside, being skewered upon him, but I had never felt so filled, never had so much hit that spot within me, never been pushed that far over the edge. Before I realized, his metal claw had turned into a warm beastlike claw that was covered in a thick fur. This change had only spurred me closer to a pleasure that I had never known. And we were both lost within it. Our screams of pleasure filled the cavern, and we slept with no thought of the upcoming battle.

That morning I awoke to a cold bed. He was already outside, dressed, and ready for the battle. I was angry at him, I remember that now. I pulled him aside with the intention to wound him. I did not want to die that night, did not want to have him die. I wanted to sever all ties with him. I had let myself depend too strongly on him. I allowed myself to become dependent on his touch. I knew deep down that I would not be able to keep him. I pulled him aside and berated him. I told him that I was disgusted by the monster within, that I would never be able to lay with such a monster. I told him that he was the replacement for a much greater man. I told him of my love for the man I have been chasing down to kill. I told him that he would never be anything but a bed warmer. Nothing but a monster that was going to be discarded once the battle was over. I was cruel, had no heart, and never wanted to have a heart. I cut him down at the knees, and watched as he died. I watched his heart break through his beautiful red eyes, and I showed no emotion. I watched as he steeled himself to me to the world. It gave me strength to know that I could break such a strong man. Gave me strength to end it. I was given all the strength I needed to rid myself of my obsession over the silvered hair god. I went to battle with him faithfully by my side. He was noble like that, he would always see his mission through no matter what I said to him. But I noticed that new shadow that engulfed him during the rest of the battle. They had all let me alone to deal the final blow. They knew I needed to be the one to do it. So I battled once more, and struck down my obsession. If I could not have it, I would eliminate it. And I did, twice. Once with a sword, and once with the cruelty of my words.

When it was all said and done. He was gone. I had not seen him since that night. And that night is all that I can ever think of. What is worse is that I did it myself. I ended it and killed them both. Killed one in body, the other in spirit. I have been searching all this time for a man that I should not be allowed to have. I know that I messed up. I know that I killed him. But maybe if I find him, I can make him see that I care. I can make him believe that I would never say those things again… and maybe make me believe that. The sun is long gone. All there is to keep me company are the stars in a barren city. The cool wind swirling around me as I look up to the heavens and ask to be resolved. I am so close to the breaking point. I was so cruel, so wrong.

I wish that I could be forgiven. I wish that I had the chance to be forgiven. I killed not only one, but two men that I loved. Yes, each relationship was screwed up, but I loved them. Then I killed them. I sighed as I collapsed upon the street. I was so lost. My life is over if I cannot find him, but I cannot continue like this. I have not slept in weeks, not since I passed out on the train. My head finds its way onto my hands. I give up. I cannot do this. I give up. I ruined my life that morning. I give up.

I leaned back upon my elbows to wallow in my own misery, staring up at the stars. They will always be there… shining happily… beautifully…

Wait…. Who is that up there? Standing upon that balcony. Dark wavy locks dancing upon the wind, piercing crimson eyes, pale milky skin. Had I finally found him? Has he been standing there all that time? Without a shirt? Has he been waiting for me, looking out that window for me? I am down here my love. Just look down. I am too excited and elated to even speak. The man I have been traveling everywhere for is finally right there. Standing there, half naked, beautifully illuminated. The living epitome of his desire.

I am on my feet now, reaching up towards the window. I am desperately trying to find the words to say to make him look down at me with those eyes, instead of out at the sea. I start to open my mouth to declare my love when I see another figure. No! It cannot be! The figure emerges, fully illuminated by the moon. It took so little to illuminate his figure. But… but I thought that I had killed him. He is putting his arms around him! No! I should be there! Don't put your arms around Vincent! You should be putting your arms around me! I should be putting my arms around him. Sephiroth! Stop leaning in! Vincent, don't, don't turn around, and don't kiss him! NO! NO! Why are they together! Sephiroth has never kissed me like that, never put his arms around me so tenderly, never caressed my cheek like that. Why is he being so sweet and tender? Vincent! Stop kissing him! Why didn't you kiss me like that! Why didn't you hold onto me like I was your world? Why are you surrendering yourself to him completely?

Sephiroth started to pick Vincent up and carry him off into the apartment, and I couldn't stand it anymore. I ran. How is it possible? How could the two men that I loved and killed, be in the same place, more alive then I had ever seen them, and within each others embrace, obviously in love? How could life treat me like this? How could it be that cruel? I somehow end up at the sea. The sea that Vincent was longingly looking out at. Oh cruel sea, having Vincent's undivided attention for even a few minuets. I wonder if they can see me standing upon the cliff overlooking the ocean. Can they see the river of regret and sorrow that I am wallowing in. No, they are probably lost within their own bliss. They will never be thinking of him while within each others embrace. No, the arms of each of them have that power. They can take away all pain, all worry, and all regret. They will be happy. And I will be miserable. I will never be loved. I am unlovable. No one will ever be able to be happy with me. They looked so much happier with each other then they ever did with me. No, I am useless. Pointless. It would be better if I was never here.

I kept wallowing. Suffocating with my own sorrow. I took my sword, correction, Zack's sword, and wedged the handle into the rock face. My back was to the ocean, all of my attention focused upon the window, still illuminated, in which my loves resided. Tears were filling my eyes as I watched the ebb and flow that their bodies created while they made love. Watched as Vincent's wings burst forth from his back and Sephiroth embraced his winged demon. I could never embrace the demon that resided within Vincent's body. I could hear their moans from where I stood. It hurt me more then I could even state to watch them together, moving as one. With all my might I thrust the sword into my torso, into my heart, letting myself scream with all my pain and sorrow. Stumbling backward I fell. Fell into the darkness, fell hitting stone and then eventually the watery depths. My screams of pain and the sound of my heart and body breaking mixing with their screams of ecstasy and their bodies pounding together.

With the water surrounding me, all I could think was, this is where I belong. This is what I deserve. I killed both of those men, and I should be glad that they had found the love that my stony heart could not give. I will no longer be able to obsess over either. They were not my drug, I was my own drug. The last trace of breath left my lungs and I sunk lower, and lower. No one would miss me. No one that mattered. Flashes of Tifa went through my head, I wish I could love her, I wish I could give her what she needed. I regret what I have done and I hated myself. Hated what I have become, hated that I had to give into my weakness and search him out, hated that I had pushed him away, hated that I always pushed people away, hated everything about myself. But nothing mattered, not anymore.


End file.
